Industriously looking to end the single life and sharing stories along the way

sex

Let’s get right to it, shall we? Here’s the next batch of self-sexist flaws:

8) Sexual development. Statistically speaking, this can be understood as one of the causes of #9 (misunderstanding women). According to a study published by the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexualityon gender differences, males are not only more prone to masturbation – which remains consistent throughout their lifetimes – but their first sexual experience generally comes from themselves, whereas most females, initially feel sexual pleasure with another person. Consequently, sexual gratification for men – not to mention a plethora of orgasms – precedes any relationship, which renders a diminished cash value in partnership for some young adult men. To be sure, this is a physiological force to be reckoned with. On average, men’s sex drive peaks before 20 years of age, while a women’s will peak between the ages of 30 and 40. The silver lining for my lascivious gender is not having to deal with unwanted and completely unwarranted erections every 15 minutes anymore. How many erections must a teenage boy deal with at a bloody funeral? This is madness!

7) “Be a man!” Ah, the classic fear of being emasculated. Due to our own personal socialization and rigid societal norms, droves of men from countless generations have suppressed childhood trauma or adulthood shortcomings with substances and/or physical activity. Since when did boxing, as opposed to therapy, become the appropriate outlet for emotional distress stemming from an unloving parent? For one thing, the gratification from boxing is – by comparison – immediately felt. There’s quite a lot one can learn from the sport and from themselves but we have a grand tendency to square our vices in indirect ways. This categorical pressure is put on from everyone, which makes it all the more ironic when heterosexual males are emasculated by their female counterparts for not falling into their stereotyped gender roles. We as a society engineered these gender roles and the circumstances of their failure to satisfy our basic human integrity. (This, too, is madness.) Ask yourself, who was more of a manly figure in Fight Club; Pitt or Norton? Quod erat demonstrandum.

6) Having game. How skilled are you at repartee and picking up women? How many partners have you had? Do you fully satisfy her yet leave her begging for more? The desire for flattering reputations that precedes you when it comes to attracting partners is undeniable in countless social circles. Consider this, my entire blog is based on my failure to get a single date. I’m not talking about trouble finding “the one” or a “good” girl or attending bad Tinder dates – on the contrary, this makes up for 90% of all single/dating blogs authored by women (just an observation here). Therefore, it should come as no surprise that any man known for “having game” is revered and exhorted. Otherwise, Jack Nicholson wouldn’t be so infamous for his off-screen self-indulgences.

5) Sports. This kindling is ubiquitously favored for male-to-male relations. It appears as profitable water cooler banter. It’s the fast food lettuce; the degree-lacking weatherman; the cheap champagne in your mimosa; the holiday regift. It’s a instant IN for most men, by far the easiest way to make friends, and if you’re not familiar, prepare for bite-sized abandonment and cold stares from your male acquaintances. If they can’t talk to you about Tom Brady, what can they talk to you about? Literally anything else? That might be too much to handle.

We spend innumerable hours fixated on lofty ideas that it comes as a great relief – not to mention surprise – to relish in moments of ineffable and tangible beauty. Why is it that we can’t simply frame these mental photographs? The mere attempt to do so would make us all abject, like an actor misplacing his lines on opening night. To truly sink into these ephemeral periods, without the aid of psilocybin, one requires another person to uphold and testify to this feeling of ecstasy. After all, love is a doing word.

I have this image in my head that I can’t shake; something that would soften even the most broad-backed misanthropic pessimist – a role I’m no stranger to. The context of the image can be summed up by a quote from the Metta Sutta. (If you’ve never experienced this objective sentiment, give it time.)

“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world — above, below, and across — unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.” – The Buddha

What I see in this image is nothing but the geographical curvature of a lover’s hip. An intoxicating instrument for lust, no doubt, but in this state, I’m only studying the arc and bow of someone I love, as if I were sketching it down to print. How do the shadows cast depth? Can I smell the oils on her skin? Am I able to mold this image in my mind before grazing my fingers gently over her body? Part of dining out at an upscale restaurant is feasting your eyes on your meal before you actually feast. This is that moment and I intend to seize it to the best of my ability.

‘Tis that festive time of the year in America where everyone dresses up, feasts on cheap milk chocolate, downs several cocktails, stumbles back to their homes, empties out their cornucopias, followed by their stomachs. Just me? Well, I’m sure Merman didn’t make it to the bathroom in time too.

For all you part-time office dwellers, today was the perfect opportunity to affront your smug boss by covering them with a thousand post-it notes. If you didn’t, it’s still Halloween week, you can still get away with it if done with enough conviction. Awkwardly get the closet key from Sharlene the hoarder, grab ten dozen packages of post-its, half the HR team, and ambush your boss in his/her corner office. Do it. Do it while you still can dammit! This week is about showing your true self.

Several years ago, I went to a college Halloween party where an old acquaintance had the gall to dress up as a six-foot penis. He was the ex-boyfriend of a good friend and after a few drinks she vehemently vented to me about how he cheated and appeared emotionally devoid during most of their relationship. While consolation would have been appropriate, I took the more impertinent route. After returning my gaze back to her, my only response was, “Of course he did Vicky. He is literally a giant dick.” Buyer beware.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. Is it my lurid sense of humor? After all, who wouldn’t embrace the gentle warmth of a stranger’s hand as you ascend to the gallows? Are you a vagrant and see that in me as well? I’m not the best looking but compared to old Boxcar Willy, I suppose I can hold my own. Maybe it’s a different flavor of independence; insolence and dissidence. Both kinds are easy to spot out – no need for smoke signals when there’s a fire of visible grandeur. On the contrary, perhaps you see something that isn’t there – a quality I’ve never possessed – and you’re unequivocally convinced it’s the answer to all your prayers. Who needs a God when there’s a temporal resource on speed dial? Number 4, to be exact.

Or, could it be that you’re attached to my illusive traits? Although mercurial and tacitly agreed upon, it feels like a blood pact. Meredith Brooks cashed in on being a “bitch,” so it’s been proven in theory and practice. Chaos can be, and often times is, majestic. That said, everyone has a threshold and, consequently, an end date. I just hope we can speak candidly when that time comes. To revise, and partially reverse, a pithy sentiment: Second chances should be given to everyone who deserves them.

My upstairs neighbors have sex all the time. The pesky creaks from their bed frame seeps through into my room at night with ease as I try to fall asleep. I’m sure I’d be less annoyed if they were good people but that’s simply not the case. My only sense of payback has been reduced to watching porn through my high fidelity sound system when my roommate’s not there. Sadly, I haven’t reached my low point yet.